The Desperate Bride’s Diet Club

by Alison Sherlock

  Once she got the joke, Violet smiled back.

  She caught the bus home again and realised she had achieved about thirty minutes of walking, including the short stroll from her front door to the bus stop. So the following morning, she got off at the nearer bus stop once more to walk a little further. And then walked to the bus stop instead of the bus station on the way home.

  Violet continued the walking each day and lost four pounds that week just from the extra exercise.

  All the fresh air and extra movement triggered a yearning for carbs so Violet made some salads to take into work for her lunch. The possibilities were endless. Cold pasta, mixed with a small amount of good quality pesto, cherry tomatoes, cubed cucumber and a couple of olives. Cold rice mixed with sun-dried tomatoes and parma ham with the fat removed. She even took in some leftover lemon risotto, made with courgettes and a splash of white wine.

  Gradually Violet became braver and got off the bus earlier and earlier each morning. By the following week, she decided it was barely worth the hassle of getting on the bus. So she walked past the bus stop and kept walking all the way into town. Half an hour later, Violet was at work and feeling proud of herself. So she began to walk home too. Violet lost four pounds that week as well.

  But at the weekends, she had nowhere to walk to. Sebastian often played golf or squash but that excluded her so she began to find other ways to keep active.

  First of all, she decided to attack the garden as autumn had almost arrived. Twenty minutes of weeding burned one hundred calories, apparently. Violet didn’t know how many calories she used up as she wrestled with a particularly large and pointy thistle that had grown up near the patio. There were huge gaping holes around the garden by the end of the weekend as she tore up massive weeds and thorns. Then she dug over the soil in the gaps to get the garden ready for some new plants. Her arms burned and her back ached from the exercise but it was a good feeling. And she was happier being out in the fresh air than embarrassing herself at a step aerobics class.

  ‘Why are you bothering? asked Sebastian, later that weekend.

  ‘Because it would be nice if the garden didn’t look like a jungle.’

  ‘Who cares? It’ll be on the market soon anyway.’

  Violet spun round. ‘Why?’

  He grinned at her. ‘I was hoping my wife would be moving in with me at some point.’

  Violet thought about his bachelor pad, which was all cold chrome and black leather.

  ‘It makes sense,’ said Sebastian. ‘To move in with me first. Then we’ll sell the flat and get one of those new townhouses on the edge of town.’

  Violet knew which ones he meant. Very tall. Very expensive. Not much character.

  ‘But we can’t afford one, can we?’

  Did he notice the hope in her voice? The hope that it was well out of reach.

  ‘We’ll use your inheritance, naturally.’

  Not knowing what to say, she went back into the garden and attacked the soil with added ferocity.

  ‘What happened to you?’ asked Mark, staring at her arms the following day.

  It was Violet’s first time of wearing a short-sleeved top. She was gradually getting used to baring a bit more flesh.

  She glanced down. It looked as if she’d been dragged through a barbed-wire fence.

  ‘It’s Sebastian,’ she told him, putting a solemn note in her voice. ‘He flays me.’

  Mark looked incandescent, his face creasing up into outrage.

  ‘I’m joking,’ she told him quickly.

  Mark walked away still frowning whilst muttering Italian gobbledygook under his breath.

  Later that week, she replaced the empty patches around the garden with some new plants. Then Violet decided to turn her attentions to her house.

  That weekend, she began a major spring clean, or rather an autumn clean, of the whole house. Hoovering apparently burned up 193 calories in an hour. Dusting came in at 173 calories. Mopping floors also at 173 calories burned. And her house needed hundreds of hours to get clean.

  How had she lived like this for so long? She had just vegetated in front of the telly and eaten and eaten. No wonder she had stayed so fat for so long. Exercise was a big help. In fact, during the month of September, when Violet’s weight loss should have been slowing, she lost another stone in weight. It was falling off her body in shock at all the movement. But she felt so much better for it.

  Exercise made her hungry but Violet still stuck to her healthy food. In the early autumn sunshine, she reminded herself of summer with a pasta dish with rich tomatoes, a slug of red wine and fresh basil. She even used a few shavings of Nonna’s marvellous Parmigiano Reggiano to add some flavour. Cheese might be the devil’s food if you’re dieting but Violet was beginning not to stress too much about the odd nibble.

  In fact, Violet was stressing less about all the calories and focusing more on enjoying fresh flavours.

  But she was so busy enjoying her dinner that she was almost late, she realised as she hurried up the stairs to the local library. Sebastian always played snooker on a Thursday evening which left her free. In fact, he didn’t even have to know about the class she had signed up for. Which was good because Violet really didn’t want to tell him about it. It would provoke too many questions and she didn’t know yet what her answers would be.

  She scurried into the classroom and took a seat. It was odd meeting people who didn’t know how large she had been. She was down to twelve stone. It helped, she found. The fact that they thought she might only be curvy rather than morbidly obese empowered her and brought her out of her shell.

  Nobody in the classroom knew about her weight in the past. And nobody needed to know. Violet was now all about the present and the future. The past should stay where it was.

  ‘Buona sera!’ said the teacher as he entered the classroom.

  Violet glanced at the paperwork on the desk. Italian for Beginners said the textbook in front of her.

  She got out her notepad and began to write.

  Chapter Forty

  MAGGIE TUGGED AT the hem of her top, trying to pull it down even further.

  ‘You look beautiful,’ whispered Gordon in her ear. ‘Stop fretting.’

  She let go of the hem and turned to face her husband. He was also looking very smart in black trousers and an open-necked blue shirt.

  ‘Good evening, folks,’ said the man on the stage, talking into a microphone. ‘It’s Friday night so I hope you’ve got your dancing shoes on.’

  Maggie glanced at her feet. She was wearing brand-new black shoes with a small heel. They were a little tight but that was the least of her problems at that minute. Her arms were bare in the new sparkly evening top she had bought. The full black skirt stopped at her knees and she was wondering if her ankles looked fat.

  Worst of all were the unexpected nerves. What if she had forgotten how to dance? What if she tripped up on the dance floor, fell flat on her face and revealed to everyone that she was wearing Spanx bicycle shorts underneath her skirt?

  ‘Shall we?’ said Gordon, turning to her and holding out his hand.

  Maggie nodded and clutched his hand as they made their way out to the dance floor. The place was packed with couples of varying ages, all fighting for space as the music began.

  Gordon put one hand in the middle of her back and clasped her other hand at a right angle to their bodies.

  They began to move to the music and all Maggie’s cares were forgotten. They had stepped back in time twenty years and it was just Maggie and Gordon. The music sang in her ears as Gordon swept her around the floor. She felt light on her feet for the first time in years, able to match his step with hers.

  Maggie was in Gordon’s arms. He smiled down at her and she felt a frisson of something. Romance? Passion, even? Definitely love. Maggie smiled back at him, feeling like a newlywed all over again.

  Maggie felt herself come alive.

  Kathy looked around the shop in the morning light, checking that eve
rything was in place. It was the day of the Grand Re-Opening of the shop. A lick of paint, some new lights and a complete overhaul of the layout and window had worked wonders. It actually looked like a place into which customers might want to venture.

  ‘My feet are killing me,’ said Maggie, who was sitting down on a chair behind the till, rubbing her feet.

  ‘You should have got the next size up,’ Kathy told her, handing over a mug of coffee.

  ‘Thanks,’ said Maggie. ‘The size sixes were too big. It’ll be OK once they’re broken in.’

  ‘So you’re going back there next week?’

  Maggie nodded. ‘Definitely. I felt about ten years younger.’ She gave Kathy a rueful smile. ‘Until I tried to get out of bed this morning. I’ve pulled muscles I didn’t even know existed.’

  ‘I’d have thought all that running would have helped.’

  ‘Different muscles, it seems.’

  Kathy wished that she too had found some new muscles but the weight was coming off gradually. Feeling slightly better about her weight loss, she had treated herself to a new skirt and knee-length boots to wear for the special opening.

  ‘Nice boots,’ said Lucy, who had been fiddling with the mannequins in the window.

  ‘Thought I’d better make an effort in case the newspaper people show up.’

  Maggie had persuaded Kathy to ring up the local paper about the shop re-opening to try and generate some extra publicity.

  As soon as it was nine o’clock, Kathy unlocked the front door and stepped back with a nervous grin.

  ‘Here’s hoping that somebody actually comes in today,’ she told Maggie and Lucy.

  Kathy was secretly hoping that, amongst the crowds of people that she had been praying for, Edward might find time to pop in as well.

  Lucy went outside and stuck a smile on her face. The weather was a little crisper, a sign that autumn had truly arrived.

  She stared up at the shop window, secretly pleased with her work. She had grabbed an old denim jacket and reworked it with some new buttons and collar. Teamed with a pair of black leather trousers that someone had donated that week and a white T-shirt, she had created a young look.

  It had been Lucy’s suggestion that they change the inside of a shop to reflect a fashion boutique, hoping to attract the younger and wealthier crowd who might look for a vintage bargain.

  She had helped behind the scenes, steaming and ironing clothes, figuring it would be all in a day’s work when she had her own shop. Lucy had even fixed up a few of the clothes with different belts and buttons to make up some different designs. She found if she kept her hands busy with sewing, then they were also away from picking at chocolate.

  She had only two weeks until she left for college and only a couple of pounds left to reach her target. Everything seemed to be coming together at once. She thought back to how she had felt at the beginning of the year. How miserable, how worthless she had thought herself to be. Now she was designing shop windows and filled with so much energy she thought she might burst.

  Life was meant to be exciting and she couldn’t wait for the future.

  Violet arrived shortly after opening time and found Lucy outside.

  ‘I found a fantastic skirt for you,’ said Lucy. ‘It’s a designer pencil skirt. It’s so you!’

  Violet grimaced. ‘Me in a pencil skirt?’

  ‘Of course,’ said Lucy, as if it were the most obvious thing for Violet to wear. ‘You’ve got that classic hourglass that it was made for. Dead sexy too.’

  Violet glanced at her reflection. She was quite pleased with her new jeans but wasn’t sure her legs were up to a skirt yet.

  Aware of Lucy watching her, she indicated the plate of brownies that she had made for the occasion and went into the shop.

  ‘Fantastic,’ said Kathy, taking one of the bite-size pieces.

  ‘Lovely,’ said Maggie, between mouthfuls. ‘But I can’t believe you’re encouraging us to be so sinful.’

  ‘I’m not,’ said Violet, breaking into a grin. ‘I’ve replaced the chocolate with cocoa powder and the butter with very-low-fat mayonnaise.’

  ‘Mayonnaise?’ said Kathy, now grimacing as she swallowed.

  ‘You wouldn’t know the difference unless I’d pointed it out,’ Violet told them.

  ‘I don’t believe it,’ said Maggie, staring at the plate. ‘They taste just the same.’

  Violet winked at them and was heading back outside when she bumped into a woman in the doorway.

  ‘Excuse me. I’m from the Daily News.’

  Violet turned around. ‘The newspaper’s here.’

  Kathy wiped the chocolate crumbs from her mouth and fixed a smile on her face as she headed outside.

  ‘Hello,’ she said to the journalist. ‘I’m Kathy, the new manager.’

  Violet watched as Kathy chatted away, wishing she had that kind of ease with people face to face. She was still thankful that the hotline wasn’t yet conducted over a webcam.

  People gradually began to hover outside the shop, drawn to the grand re-opening by some balloons and big signs that Maggie had had printed.

  Violet watched the photographer take a few shots. She wondered if he covered weddings as well. Then she remembered the fancy photographer that Miriam had chosen. She had taken a quick look at the website. From the gallery of shots, it all looked a bit arty. A photograph of a single shoe. A flower head. None of it seemed real, plus it all came at a hefty cost. Miriam was heading down the route that thought the more expensive the service, the better.

  Violet shook her head and focused back on Kathy.

  ‘Donate, don’t waste. That’s our message,’ Kathy was saying to the journalist. ‘After all, giving us five pounds for a skirt or jacket would pay for one person to attend a half-hour session at a monthly meeting, providing information and support for both the people with dementia and their carers. It’s so important to have outside contact.’

  Violet wondered if she should just hand over her whole inheritance to the Alzheimer’s Society. Lord knew, they would probably do something more worthwhile with it than Sebastian would.

  Amongst the crowd that was gradually beginning to build up, both inside and outside the shop, was Edward.

  He said hi to Violet and Lucy, before standing and watching Kathy chat to the journalist.

  He realised that her face had lost its roundness as the pounds had dropped and now she had cheekbones lit by a pink glow. Her brown eyes sparkled and she had cut her hair a little shorter. She was very pretty and he found he enjoyed looking at her.

  A photographer from the newspaper had arrived to take a picture to go with the article. He was trying to gather everyone together for a group shot and was getting a bit hands on with Kathy, manoeuvring her to the middle by placing his hand on her lower back. An inch lower and Edward would floor him with a punch.

  As well as the weight-loss girls, a few of the regular customers had also turned up, including some of the pensioners.

  ‘Right,’ said the photographer, before holding up his lens. ‘Everybody smile. And remember, tits and teeth, ladies. Tits and teeth.’

  There was a shocked silence and a few looks exchanged.

  ‘What did he say?’ asked Mavis, who thankfully was slightly deaf.

  ‘He said his name was Keith,’ said Kathy.

  Edward’s shoulders were shaking as he tried to suppress his laughter. He locked eyes with Kathy who was also trying not to giggle.

  As she turned back to smile at the camera, Edward realised he had to keep trying with Kathy. He couldn’t let her go without a fight. She meant too much to him.

  Chapter Forty-one

  IT WAS A momentous week. Lucy had reached her target of nine stone.

  ‘And just in time for my leaving do on Friday night,’ said Lucy, grinning.

  She was moving into her university digs at the weekend and wanted to go out for a few drinks with her friends from college, as well as the weight-loss group.

  Violet
felt her stomach plummet. Going out was for other people. Other more confident and happy people. She always dreaded going to nightclubs with all those slim women and Violet as the token fatty. But the girls had started to talk about the hen night in December and, with only three months until the wedding, perhaps she should get a bit of practice in.

  That Friday night, Violet stared at her reflection in the full-length mirror which she had finally purchased. The image in the mirror surprised her. Nearly as much as the fact that she was now a size sixteen.

  She was wearing her brand-new, pale silver embroidered camisole with straps thick enough to hide a bra strap. It was too pretty to resist. None of Violet’s bras warranted any kind of display so she had found some courage and headed into Marks & Spencer’s lingerie department. She had never been measured for a bra and it came as a shock to discover that she was now only a 38C. Up till then, Violet had been wearing a 42E and even that left massive welts across her back and shoulders.

  She had just got paid so she treated herself to half a dozen new bras, three in white, two black and one nude. The matching knickers were pretty so Violet bought those as well. She had decided to throw out all her horrible old knickers, whose baggy material was beginning to show through her trousers.

  So with new underwear, top, trousers and her favourite turquoise high heels, Violet was ready. She looked at her reflection and gave herself a little nod. She was all right. She could now see the full length of her body and she looked OK. It was time to stop hiding.

  The front doorbell rang and Violet made her careful way down the stairs in her heels. She opened up the front door and found Kathy and Maggie standing on her doorstep with big grins on their faces.

  ‘You look great,’ they told each other at the same time.

  Kathy and Maggie were also wearing black trousers and heels with different tops. Perhaps it was the uniform for going out.

  ‘Those shoes are fabulous!’ cooed Kathy at the turquoise heels.

  ‘I know,’ said Violet. ‘But I can’t walk in them.’

  ‘Hang on to us, love.’ Maggie held out her arm. ‘You’ll be fine.’